


Unravel And Perfrom

by SparksOut



Category: Bandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:24:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4606641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparksOut/pseuds/SparksOut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's normal. Everything is normal. Inhale. Exhale. Bow, sweep, jump and land. Inhale. Exhale. Ignore the slippery feeling in your spine.<br/>Inhale.<br/>Exhale.<br/>Don't trip over shadows. Land. Bow.<br/>Smile. Don't open your eyes too wide. Don't look behind you. Stand straighter. Turn 89°. Leave the stage.<br/>Exhale.<br/>-*-<br/>"Unravel and Perform" follows the story of Riel, a 17 ballet prodigy who harbors a dangerous secret-- she can bend reality around her, and shapeshift. Follow her story as she tries to help the scientists and not the weapons manufacturers, and avoid being dropped into a CIA prison.<br/>But it turns out that when you're pretty, you really can get away with anything. When her shapeshifting nature is eventually revealed, Riel is thrown headlong into the spotlight. Paparazzi follow her heals, and film producers beg her to cameo their films.<br/>Will Riel manage to balance science, fame, and dance; or will she collapse under the pressure? Because when you're the only one in the world, it's startling just how much everyone wants you.<br/>((I DONT KNOW WHAT FANDOMS THIS WILL BE YET, so i just went with super vague. I'll update it when I figure it out.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unravel And Perfrom

**Author's Note:**

> Features: dance recital, bullying, aesthetic appreciation of physique, very minor body horror

"Get lost in the dark to find yourself" {Where The Lonely Ones Roam - Digital Daggers}  
-*-  
The room was dark and smelled like chalk. The other bodies moved around me like the noble ghosts of ancient swans, and I stepped forward. I felt my muscles stretch and respond as extended my arms up, and put my feet in fourth position. Plie, bend and sweep my arms. 

Then the music started, and I could feel the bass thrumming through my bones. I watched the other dancers swirl out around me and onto the stage, their pale limbs waving like dead tree branches as we all poured into our choreographed locations. 

"Won't you come out  
We could paint the town red  
Kill a little time  
You can sleep when you're dead  
Cause it isn't over yet  
Get it out of your head"

And we were flowing across the stage, moving as though the song were instructions only we were tuned to obey. 

Ghost swans and dead tree branches, white leotards and gauzy tutus. I swept my fingers along the ground, bending my legs before kicking up with a batma and leading down into a split. 

"Chase a couple hearts  
We could leave 'em in shreds  
Meet me in the gutter  
Make the devil your friend  
Just remember what I said  
Cause it isn't over yet  
Just remember what I said  
Cause it isn't over yet"

We all crowded to the center of the stage, moving like bubble with our hands held. We surged forward, and the smaller dancers pushed to the center, before being lifted out and carried away by the larger ones. 

The music slowed, and we paused, before separating into lines and holding up a single arm. 

"Say you have a little faith in me  
Just close your eyes and let me lead  
Follow me home"  
Need to have a little trust in me  
Just close your eyes and let me lead  
Follow me home  
To where the lonely ones roam"

At "where the lonely ones roam" we all turned and melted off the stage like fog. The music wound to a close, and the lights dimmed. We pushed and herded away from the wings, trying to get out of the way of the next dancers and get back to our locker rooms. 

We poured out into the hallway, silent as ghosts amid the arguments and shouts of the stagehands and dancers around us. Our locker room was very near the stage, perks of being the highest-ranking group at our school. We filed into the room, one of the other dancers flicking the light on as we entered. The room smelled like chalk just as the wings of the stage had. 

My limbs hurt like fury, and I collapsed into the chair before my station with a sigh. I shifted uneasily as the slippery feeling in my spine started again. It felt like... like I was leaning against a piece of tissue paper stretched to the brink. I stood from my chair and groaned, grabbing my street clothes and a hair brush. I knew I was going to miss final bow, but I needed to look at my spine. Maybe I wouldn't change. Maybe I'd just pull down my leotard, and as long as my back looked fine, I'd put it back and make it to final bow. 

As I left the room, Andrelle called after me "Riel! What are you doing? Leave the clothes here. You are not missing final bow again-- Miss will have our hides." I stiffened, and then dropped the clothes back on the table without ever sparing her a glance. 

I ducked out to the bathroom, and pretended to brush my hair until the other people in the bathroom left. Then I pulled my leotard over my arms and shimmied it down to my hips, before turning to look at my back. 

My spine had a dark, almost nebula-like bruise running from just below my shoulders to just above my hips. I shifted, and the nebula seemed to move oddly, as if it wasn't a bruise, but a window. I moved my hand to my back, and pressed my finger to the shadow. 

The slippery feeling intensified, and started to spread, like fragments of ice shattering my body. I immediately pulled my fingers off, and stared in horror as the nebula spread with lightning-shaped forks. Eventually, though, it slowed, although my mark was twice the size it had been. 

I swallowed, and ran my hand through my hair. This was not happening. I did not have some freaky disease. I dropped the hairbrush on the bathroom vanity with a clatter, and turned on the faucet with shaking hands. I splashed water on my face, careful not to disturb the heavy stage makeup. I looked to the mirror, watching the water bead up and roll off my sharp features. I looked dreadful; eyes like blue bullet holes, cheekbones like knives from not eating enough, lips painted gaudy red, face painted porcelain to hide my other features. 

I took a deep breath. It's a mask. I am the swan. The infallible beauty- strange and beautiful and deadly, something no one will ever understand. The untouchable model on a high stage. I curled my fingers, digging my nails into the palm of my hand. Everything about me was sharp and uncomfortable- eyes that looked too long, elbows that stung and shoulders that bruised, a tongue that could do nothing but cut. It has been said that their is beauty in pain-- I am a walking specimen. 

I yanked my hair back into a bun, and patted my face dry with a paper towel and dashed back to our room. Andrelle glared at me as I sat down again. "You've gone and smeared your makeup. I didn't draw those cheekbones on for you to rub them off your fat face." She sneered. 

I held up the makeup pouch as she stalked over. "God, it's such a shame you're so fat. You're a damn good dancer, and you could probably be pretty if you lost a couple pounds." She said, eyes flicking down my body. 

I knew I wasn't fat. I think. I didn't give her the satisfaction of flicking my eyes to check to see if she was right, just kept them focused on the ceiling. Andrelle huffed and started contouring again, drawing my cheekbones back on. I know why she does it, why she insults me. She's jealous-- I am one of the most talented dancers at our school, if not the most. And Andrelle was gifted and incredible, but not as good as me. She had other skills, like artistry, but she didn't seem to value them. I feel bad for her most of the time. You can practically see her rotting from the inside out. 

"Done, pig. It's a shame you can't put makeup on your leotard; you might consider spanx for our next show." she said, before stalking back over to her station. I brushed my hand along the top of my head, checking the bun and soothing myself. I glanced at the small slip of paper sticking from my purse-- a note from my doctor, telling me I was very close to being underweight. That I needed to eat healthier or I'd be in danger. 

The doctor has thousands of dollars in certification, and Andrelle is just bitter, but which one do I believe? I crack my knuckles and grab my phone from my bag. The doctor hadn't seen anything on my back. He literally hadn't seen the blackness. When I started to insist that it was there, he offered to recommend me to a therapist. I understand that they can be useful to some, but not my cup of tea. 

I know psychology-- I don't need someone else to tell me that I might be hallucinating. Hey, maybe it's just a side effect of skipping meals? I shifted, and the tissue-paper sensation pressed itself against my brain. It was awfully real to just be a hallucination. 

"Final bow in two minutes, dancers! We need you in the wings!" a stagehand shouted. 

"Let's go, bitch." Andrelle said, winking at me. Damn, that girl is poison. I watched her blow a kiss to the stagehand, who blushed. Poison is the wrong metaphor-- heroin is a better one. She looks dangerous and fun, but all I ever see is her destroying people. She has heartbreaking down to a science, and frankly I'm impressed. With a tight shirt and a little red lipstick, she can wrap any guy and a fair amount of girls around her finger. 

Not that she ever actually cares for them. I wonder how she got hurt in the past to cause her to be so cruel now, but she's never told me and I've never asked. 

She grabs my hand as we stand to the back of the crowd in the wings- being the highest level, we go out last. "Kyle's cheating on Axesis with Intza." Andrelle whispers in my ear. I look at her with wide eyes; why tell me this? "Kyle's the stagehand, Axesis is the lead dancer on the level 2 jazz group, and Intza is the lead dancer of our top hiphop team. Word has it she's better with her hips than Axesis." She clarified. "Except it gets better. Axesis is actually also hooking up with Intza behind Kyle's back, and Intza actually hates Kyle. They're honeytrapping him." She smirked evilly. "And then they said I could have him for the rebound-- I've heard he's a great fuck, makes his hissyfits worth it." 

I was just nodding along now. This wasn't the first time Andrelle had used me to confide in-- I got the feeling that being a hearteating bitch doesn't exactly get you a lot of friends. I never know the people she talks about, so she doesn't have to worry about me talking. But she'd never talked about Kyle before-- I know she has history with him, so she tends to avoid him. 

Then Kyle ushered us onto the stage, and the bright lights once again blinded me. I didn't squint, I was far too well trained, but kept my saccharine smile on and walked to center stage. Our names were announced one-by-one over the loud speaker, and we bowed. 

Then all like that, it was over. We pushed off the stage, and everyone was in a flurry of conversation. This was our last show of the season-- that meant everyone could let themselves go a bit before practice started again. And at my elitist boarding school, that meant one thing-- parties. Andrelle had her iPhone in her hand, the kitchy bird charms jingling merrily as she texted furiously. 

As we filed into the room, she pulled me aside. "Hey, Riel. Are you going to a party tonight?" She asked, almost shy. 

I nodded. I had friends; my geek squad. We were going to marathon Doctor Who tonight because I'd never seen it. 

Andrelle laughed, all shyness lost. "I mean a real party. A 'boy-girl' party with actual alcohol?" When I shook my head, she continued. "Of course not. You're coming with me tonight-- the starlet shouldn't walk home alone." She smirked at me. "Plus, I know you've never had a lover-- boy, girl, both..." she checked my expression to make sure she was right. "Hah! I knew it. Girl you're coming with me. And trust me, I've got a couple dresses that'll make even your sharp features look like curves." 

She turned to walk away, but I grabbed her shoulder. "What's in it for you?" when she looked confused, I continued, "Why are you doing this?" 

"Oh, well there's a big 'ole plan going down, and I need a wingman I can trust." She continued, quirking her lips at me before snatching her street clothes from her bag and leaving the room. 

Huh. I'd managed to make myself her friend. How on earth did I do that? More importantly, how am I going to do this? All I knew about these parties were rumors and stories-- I really was the quintessential good girl. I'd kissed only one boy, and never had alcohol. Fooled around with girls? Drugs? Sex? 

If I was being honest with myself, all of that sounded like a lot of fun, but I couldn't afford to be at all out of shape for dance. This is the perfect opportunity then, I told myself. Practice for college, right? 

I ran my hands through my hair again, an action that was becoming obsessive. I then grabbed my makeup bag and street clothes. I passed Andrelle walking into the bathroom and she grabbed my wrist. 

"Take off all the clownstuff-- I'll be back in our locker room when you're done. We'll walk back to my room, and you can leave your stuff there for the night. I'll get you ready, and then I have a ride arranged to take us to the party." She smiled again, walking back into the locker room. It may have been a sneer, or a smirk too. 

I pushed the door of the bathroom open with my elbow, and walked in. The handicapped stall was deserted, so I edged behind the mob at the mirror and stepped into it. I pushed the lid down on the toilet and deposited my stuff, then swung the door to the stall shut. I stripped out of my leotard and tights, dropping them unceremoniously on the toilet. I spun around to check my spine in the small mirror, and the nebula marking was still there. It hadn't spread any further, but it hadn't shrunk either. How was I going to wear a shirt? What if the wind blew by and you could see my back?

I took a deep breath. The doctor hadn't been able to see the mark, it stands to reason that nobody but be can. I just have to ignore it, if only for tonight. I'll do some more serious googling tomorrow, after the party I promised myself. 

I slid into my street clothes and bent over the sink, wiping my face off with the makeup remover wipes. I freed my dark hair from its tight bun, and sighed as I felt it cascade over my shoulders. I'd considered cutting it, going edgy... but I couldn't. I have to be able to make the perfect ballet bun, and look beautiful. Nobody wants a swan with hacked up hair. I shook my head. I rarely ever saw my family, but their words were still burned into my head as strongly as ever. 

I tossed the several used makeup wipes into the bin, and grabbed my leotard and tights off the toilet lid. I walked quietly back into the locker room, and it was mostly deserted save for Andrelle texting on her phone, Mixxy putting a few last things in her bag, and Eesi and Velta chatting in the corner. Their names were so pretentious, but to be fair mine isn't much better. It's just what you get when you're allowed to chose your own name the day you're admitted to the school. 

"There you are. Took you long enough. Grab your stuff, Kyle's giving us a ride back to our dorms." She said, flinging my a wink as she said his name.

I smiled back. "Any plans for the car ride I should be aware of?"

She visibly brightened at my interest. "I knew you'd come around. And no, but you're riding shotgun. I want him to have to see me each time he looks in the rearview." She licked her lips, glancing down at her phone again. "And if he tries to come onto you, just like... stop him. Take his hand and put it back on the wheel, or ignore him if he tries to flirt with you. He's probably going to, to try and make me jealous. But trust me, he's hot as fuck but you aren't ready to hit it and quit it yet girlie." She patted my shoulder. 

I threw the last of my makeup supplies into my bag and zipped it up. "Man whore." I laughed. 

Andrelle giggled. "Whores get paid, my dear. He's just a thirsty slut." 

I laughed, following her out of the room. We walked out the back door of the auditorium, and Kyle was leaning against a flashy car far too expensive for a student. 

Also, good fuck he's hot. Six feet of tan skin and muscles leaning against a sportscar-- goddamn. Of course, I'm not gonna do anything, but Andrelle never said anything against lusting after him. 

"He feels about as good as he looks." Andrelle whispered in my ear, winking at me. I gulped, and tried to push down the goosebumps on my arms. 

Andrelle walked up to him, flicking her hair over her shoulder and dragging her eyes up his body before finally making eye contact with him. "Well, pretty boy? You gonna take us for a ride?" She asked, her voice challenging. 

"Depends. Your pretty friend coming along? Been a while since I've had a menage a trois." He said, glancing at me. 

"Virgins are friends, not food, whore. Just drive us." She said, gritting her teeth. 

Kyle raised his arms in defeat, and holy shit muscles. That tight shirt was leaving very little to the imagination. Kyle opened the passenger door, and gestured for Andrelle to get in. She ignored him, and got into the back. I nearly laughed at his expression, as if she'd just slapped him, before I got into the opened door. He regained his composure and shut it behind me, before crossing to the driver's side. 

"We don't go slow here, so hold on tight." He said, flinging a suggestive wink my way. I ignored him, staring straight ahead and totally not looking at the way his muscles tensed around the wheel as he shifted up gears. 

It didn't take long for me to get more interested in the scenery outside, however. It was melting by like oil paints with the speed of the car, utterly fascinating. So when I felt his hand on my thigh, I nearly jumped out my skin. My head snapped away from the window, staring straight a the side of his head. 

"You aren't supposed to touch the artwork. Not sure if you knew that." I snapped. 

He laughed good-naturedly and put his hand back on the wheel. 

Soon enough we were at the dorm, and I nearly leapt out of the car. "You gonna be at the party tonight, Venus?" Kyle called after me. I was mildly impressed that he knew the name of that famous statue. 

"I suppose you'll see." I said, winking and shutting the door. 

Kyle revved the engine, and sped off. Andrelle walked up to me with a grin on her face. "Shit girl, didn't know you could play like that. You gonna do damn fine at this party if can talk like that." she high fived me. "And good job getting him wrapped around your finger. Bet if you kissed him in front of Intza and Axesis shit would get crazy. Hah, he'd get that menage a trois he wanted-- Intza would make sure he couldn't walk for a week." She smiled at me again. "Girl you're gonna be my dark horse. Hell yeah!" 

She pushed the door open to her room, and pulled me inside. "Drop your bag over there, and strip. What cup size are you?" she asked. 

I flung my bag at her bed, and started pulling my shirt over my head. I'd rather find out other people can see the mark now, than at a party surrounded by a ton of people. "Um... B cup, 36inches." I replied. 

"I have just the dress..." She said, disappearing into her closet. 

\--!-End of Chapter one-!--  
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